


Love of My Life

by trenchcoatsandbowlegs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Community: deancasbigbang, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Multiple, Romantic Comedy, blatant Star Wars references, deancasbigbang 2014, pov switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2470154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trenchcoatsandbowlegs/pseuds/trenchcoatsandbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since the two of them have seen each other. Dean Winchester left him sad and broken, and after years under the assumption that he would never see the other man again, Castiel Novak is shocked upon seeing the one man he's continuously thought about for four years of heartbreak in his favorite coffeeshop he frequents. Without a clue of what to do, the two of them dance around each other until they can figure out their lives and their feelings, without hurting each other even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of the 2014 DCBB.
> 
> There's literally so many people I need to thank! First and foremost, of course, the DCBB mods! Their patience and help is what makes this so great, and you guys are just fantastic.
> 
> Of course, to my friends, (John, Ashanti, Abby, and Lynchel) because I can't believe you guys put up with my shit and basically just beta'd this fic for me as I asked you to, so thank you guys SO much for being there and helping me. 
> 
> Not to mention, my FANTASTIC ARTIST, [Donna](http://dvstong.livejournal.com/) for actually picking my fic and creating some great art. It was such a great time working with you!
> 
> And thanks to all of you guys taking time to even look at this fic. It honestly means the world to me.
> 
> Title is taken from the Queen song of the same name.
> 
> Now, onto the fic!

_Seconds. That’s all it took; just a few seconds._

▫

He’s running late and it’s absolutely _freezing_ outside.

His next class starts in a few minutes, and he _really_ doesn’t want to show up late, but there’s absolutely no way he’s getting through the day after a less than satisfactory night of sleep.

Finally arriving at the little coffee shop he frequents that’s on the edge of campus, he scrounges through his bag to find his change. He gets the same thing every time and has practically the entire menu memorized, so he knows that his large coffee is going to cost him $1.80.

He walks up to counter, and without looking up from his bag, says a simple, “Large coffee, black, please,” because he _knows_ he has exact change and would really prefer not to break his $20 bill on his coffee and what would be the point in using his credit card on less than two dollars? After a few moments more, though, he finds that last dime he needed and triumphantly pulls it out of his bag. When he looks up, he notices the barista hasn’t even _shifted_ his position since Castiel first walked up to the counter, and he finally sees why.

His eyes trail up the torso in front of him, passing the name tag pinned to the barista’s shirt before sliding up to his face and he sees them. Those eyes - it was always the eyes that got to him - that were bright, and green, and gleamed so _perfectly_ and there’s not but one person who could be the proud owner of those eyes – and _no._ He is _not_ doing this, he refuses to. It can’t be him, simply _cannot_ be the person who left and broke his heart, there’s absolutely no way that it could be Dean fucking Winchester who’s standing behind that damn counter.

But it is.

Castiel is frozen to the spot. He hears the soft clang of coins against the hard tile floor and he vaguely realizes he must have dropped his money but there’s nothing he can do about it because he can’t _move_ and he can’t believe this is happening and he’s going to just _throw up_ right here, right now, until the loud clearing of a throat shakes him from his thoughts and his eyes finally move from the green ones staring right back but it doesn’t matter. He’s still having trouble breathing because he can’t fucking _believe_ this, and at least Dean looks equally as shocked as he feels.

A woman behind him clears her throat again, louder and more pointedly, in distaste for the hold up, and suddenly he realizes he can’t do this, and that he doesn’t _have_ to.

He leaves the money where it is, laying on the ground where he dropped it, and turns around, essentially running into the impatient woman behind him.

“S-sorry, excuse me,” he stutters, surprised his voice even works without completely breaking, and he’s pushing past her and out of the store. He thinks he might hear a faint _“Cas!”_ being called after him, but he simply refuses to turn around or stop at this point.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Castiel is back at home, back at his shitty little apartment just outside of campus, and there’s not a single possibility of him going to class today, not like this. He shuts himself in his room and just curls up in bed.

For a few minutes, he thinks he might cry, but when it isn’t happening, he realizes he’s probably cried all the tears he’s capable of producing due to Dean Winchester over the course of the past few years. Still though, his breathing is rough and everything _hurts_ again, like it used to, like the months after Dean left. It’s like a physical pain in his chest and it feels like something is clawing at his ribcage, trying to scratch and tear its way out, and he’s left breathless. Everything is painful, because everything right now is _Dean,_ and Castiel doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that.

▫

Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about his new job yet.

It wasn’t the worst gig he’d ever had, not by a long shot, but sometimes he couldn’t help but get sick of the shitty people and their shitty coffee orders. This wasn’t a damn Starbucks.

Nonetheless, he goes to work every day and makes his minimum wage like every other college kid with a shitty job.

He has the morning shift for once, which he’d discovered was the least coveted of shifts due to the amount of people that came in for their morning pick-me-up. But so far, the job itself was pretty simple and it paid decently. He got to hit on hot chicks that came in every so often and could pretty much drink however much coffee he wanted, so yeah, this gig wasn’t the worst he’s been at.

Until the last person Dean could have ever hoped would walk into the shop _did._

The dark birds nest of hair was the same, if not a little longer and dare he say, a little _messier,_ as if he’d just gotten out of bed without looking in a mirror, which, he probably did. The awful stubble that never seemed to really go away, no matter how often he shaved was the same, too. Cas, for the most part, looks exactly as he did back when they were seniors in high school, just a little older and a little more built in his legs and shoulders.

Cas isn’t looking up, let alone at Dean behind the counter, so Dean has the opportunity to stand there shell shocked for a few moments before Cas notices him.

He’s rummaging through his bag for something, and it seems like he’s fighting a losing battle. His glasses look like they’re about to slip off his face, and that’s how Dean knows he woke up late this morning because there’s no way Cas willingly left the confinement of wherever he currently resides in the glasses he absolutely can’t stand. But then again, maybe his preferences have changed since they were last together.

Dean is still standing there, mouth open, when Cas says, “Large coffee, black, please,” and Dean knows he has no right, but he’s glad that he still knows something about Cas.

He can’t believe what he’s seeing though. Finally, after a few moments, Cas seems to find what he was looking for in his bag, and before he knows what’s happening, Cas is looking up at Dean. Dean realizes he must look like an idiot; his mouth is still hanging slightly open and he’s sure his eyes have blown wide but right now all he’s focused on is the man in front of him and the fact that he’s really seeing Cas and looking into those damn _eyes,_ the ones so bright and blue you could get lost in them, the ones that always had that sparkle.

His eyes though, those were so far from the same.

Now there’s more to them - there’s no longer the innocence or happiness in them that Dean had grown accustomed to. They’re dark, and you can practically _see_ the pain in them. Nothing urgent and nothing shocking, just the look of someone who clearly had something bad happen to him in the past, and Dean’s heart fucking _breaks_ all over again, because he _knows_ it’s his fault that those eyes that were once so comforting and _light_ are sad and angry.

Dean knows he’s the reason Cas is frozen in his spot and realizes the small clatter he hears must have been Cas dropping whatever he pulled out of his bag.

 _Change,_ he realizes. Cas was searching through his bag for _coins._

For a moment, Dean almost huffs out a laugh because _of fucking course_ it was change. Cas liked being able to pay the exact amount to the penny, so it’s not like that was new. If that’s the case, though, he must come here often enough to know the exact price of what he ordered which, _shit,_ of course Dean managed to get a fucking job at the coffee shop Cas just happens to go to. Just his damn luck.

And then, Dean notices that Cas doesn’t even just look upset, he just looks _scared._ His eyes are big and frightened at what he’s seeing, and Dean grimaces inwardly.

Dean wants to move, wants to get down in front of Cas on his knees and beg him to _please,_ please _hear me out, Cas, I’m so damn sorry,_ but a woman behind him clears her voice in obvious annoyance _twice_ and before he can say anything, Cas is moving, excusing himself and all but running out of the shop.

As Cas moves he makes a last ditch effort, hoping maybe he’d hear him, but then again, Dean doubts he would turn around if he did.

“Cas!” he calls after him, but the door to the shop has closed and Cas is still moving quickly down the street.

He’s sure this pales in comparison to what he put Cas through years ago, but he wonders if this is what it felt like for Cas when Dean walked out on him.

Dean is still standing there, shocked, when the annoyed woman from before says snidely, “Excuse me, are you _going_ to take any orders or just _stand there?”_

He wants to be rude, wants to be short with her and glare but he can’t find it in himself and instead finds himself saying, “Yeah. Yeah, of course, sorry about that. What can I get you?” He finally pulls his eyes from the door and looks to the woman as she orders, but he moves on autopilot, barely actually functioning, because that was _Cas,_ that was _his Cas_ standing in this shop, looking at him like that, and it suddenly hits Dean how fucking much he’s missed Cas and he’s suddenly sure he’s never wanted a drink as much as he does right now.

▫

The rest of the day for Dean passes slowly and quickly at the same time. It feels like everything is in slow-motion and barely moving, but before he knows it, his shift is almost over and he barely remembers even working it.

There’s only one thing he _does_ remember, the only thing consistently on his mind all day.

 _Cas. His_ Cas. Although he’s positive he has no right to even think such a thing anymore, that doesn’t stop it from crossing his mind. He’s pretty sure that’s how he’s _always_ going to refer to Cas in his mind.

When he eventually leaves the coffee shop at 3 o’clock and he’s sitting in his car about to drive home, it finally hits him just what happened earlier.

“Jesus,” he mutters, hands scrubbing over his face and eyes shut tight like maybe if he just _wishes_ hard enough that it never happened, it’ll go away and he won’t have to worry about it, problem solved. No harm, no foul, right?

But that’s not how the world works and that’s not what happens.

Today is the day that Dean Winchester was finally forced to face the biggest mistake, biggest _regret_ he has and even though it’s been years, he still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing or how in the fuck he is supposed to react to it.

He decides sitting in his car hating himself and his past isn’t going to do him any good, so a few moments later, he starts up the Impala and drives to his apartment, hoping that he can figure out what the fuck is going on in his life, or that he can just ignore it.

▫

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls up to his apartment and manages to trudge up the ridiculous amount of stairs it takes to get to his door. He sighs as he unlocks his door, because he’s _sure_ he’s going to see Sam, sitting at their kitchen table with books spread out in front of him, and there’s no way he has it in him to try and fake being okay right now.

As he steps into the apartment, right on cue, he gets a, “Hey, Dean,” from Sam, who is still looking down at his books and quickly jotting down notes. Dean mostly grunts in response, eliciting an actual response from Sam, complete with an actual glance in his direction rather than avid focus on his text book.

“Woah, dude, what happened to you? Was work okay?”

“Yeah, Sammy, work was fine, if you count Cas walking in, seeing me, and running out before I could even get a damn _word in_ fine.” Dean doesn’t mean to be short with Sam; it’s not as if it’s his fault that Dean’s a fuck up, but he can’t help it and he’ll try and find it in himself to apologize later.

“What the – _Cas?_ As in, Castiel, from when you were a teenager? Castiel, with the messy hair and blue eyes? Castiel, who you were pretty much in _love with,_ Cas?”

“ _Yes,_ Sam,” Dean growls. He shouldn’t have said anything to Sam in the first place; of course he was going to react like this. “What other Cas would it fucking be?”

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam responds in a breath. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m fine. He clearly didn’t want to see me, so whatever.” Dean practically throws himself onto the couch, not wanting to deal with any of this anymore. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be out with Jess right now?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” Sam scrambles to pack up his books and pens and, Jesus _Christ,_ his fucking highlighters before he glances at Dean and stops short. “Y’know, I can cancel if you want? I can just stay in and we can hang or something, Jess would understand if-“

“Just go, Sam, I’m fine, nothing to worry about here. Everything is honky dory, so go ahead out.”

“Seriously, Dean, I can-“

“No, _seriously,_ Sam,” Dean cuts him off. “Just go, okay? Say hi to Jess for me, have a good time, use a condom, all that good shit. I’m fine, alright? So go ahead out.”

The weary look is still plastered onto Sam’s face and he _clearly_ must not believe Dean but must decide better than pressuring him and gives a quiet, “Okay, Dean. I’ll be back later,” as he heads out the door.

As soon as he’s gone Dean collapses onto the couch, because he’s relatively sure that if he stands and has to _think_ anymore he’s genuinely going to be sick.

After a few moments, whatever nausea he was feeling has passed and while nothing is even _kind of_ okay, he figures he has nothing better to do, so he closes his eyes and slips into sleep.

▫

No, un _fathomable._

Not once did Castiel ever think he would see Dean Winchester again, at least not since a few months after Dean left him. But nonetheless, he never thought such an event would occur, and now that it has, he hasn’t the faintest idea what to do with himself. So, he does the only thing he can think of.

He calls Gabriel.

In retrospect, this may not have been the best choice of action for the situation, but at the moment, it’s the _only_ course of action he can think of.

He’d gotten home a few hours ago and promptly fell asleep in his bed, skipping the majority of his classes for the day. He hoped maybe when he woke he would realize this wasn’t _real,_ that none of it was, but upon waking he remembered everything, cringed, and felt even worse if possible.

Sighing, he gives in and grabs his phone out of his bag that ended up on the floor once he got home. He stares at it for a few minutes, debating if calling Gabriel is even a good idea but he _knows_ sitting here and wallowing in his own sadness and self-pity won’t do him any good, so calling Gabe is the next best thing.

The phone rings so many times that Castiel is sure he isn’t even going to answer, and just as he’s about to hang up and accept his fate of wallowing in his own self-pity, the phone clicks and he hears a loud, “Baby bro! What’s shakin’, bacon?”

Instantly, Castiel regrets his decision. Anything would have been better than having trying to talk to Gabriel about this.

“Never mind, Gabriel,” Castiel replies with a sigh.

“Never mind what? You call me and instantly try to hang up? Do you _know_ how conversations or phone calls work, Cassie, ‘cus this is _not_ proper etiquette, let me tell you.”

“I am aware, Gabriel, I just realized this was a poor decision, so if you don’t mind, I am going to hang up now.”

“Wait, wait!” Gabriel rushes, trying to cut Castiel off before he has an actual chance to hang up. “Seriously, what’s going on? You sound sorta down in the dumps, y’know?”

“I’m fine, Gabe, just let me-“

“Castiel. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s honest and abrupt, and for a moment, Castiel is shocked his brother is even capable of sounding that serious.

“I- I don’t...“ Castiel falters. “It’s Dean.”

There’s a momentary pause over the line and eventually Castiel realizes he’s been holding his breath. Just as he’s about to say never mind again, there’s an intake of breath over the phone and Gabriel says, “I’m going to kill him.”

“Gabe! You don’t even know what happened!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gabriel growled. “That fucker has bad news written all over him, okay? He hurt you before and I don’t give a _shit_ what happened, I’m _going to kill him.”_

Castiel groans audibly and smacks a hand over his face. Why did he ever think this phone call was a good idea? He could have easily kept this to himself and continued living his life. All he would have had to do was stop going to the coffee shop or maybe transfer schools or even just leave the country. That would have been easier than dealing with this.

“You cannot kill anyone, Gabriel,” the amount of times Castiel has had to remind him of this is genuinely distressing, but for once he thinks Gabe just might go through with it. “Nothing even actually happened. I just learned that he works at a coffee shop I frequent. All I have to do is stop going there, right? Yes, everything is fine, nothing to worry about. My apologies for bothering you.”

“Cas, I swear to God, I am _going_ to punch you in the face. Are you fucking _joking me?_ You see this kid _years_ after he fucked you over and you’re just totally fine? No lingering feelings, nothing there? Because I call total bullshit on that.

“You know I’m not gonna believe any of the shit you’re about to spew, so don’t even try it. He wasn’t worth it back then, and he sure as hell isn’t worth it now, Cas. You’re worth more than that, okay? He doesn’t deserve you being upset over him because you’re _better_ than that, better than him. Just forget about him and stay away from the shop, please. I don’t want to see you go through the same shit with him you did the first time around.”

Gabriel finishes, and Castiel is genuinely speechless. Not once in his life has he ever heard his brother speak this way; softly, protectively, _lovingly._ Gabe may screw around and prank Castiel often, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. If anything, it proves how much he cares, because if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t even bother, and suddenly Castiel isn’t sure how to take that.

He fumbles for an answer, unsure of how to respond until suddenly the words, “I love you, Gabe,” tumble out of his mouth. The answering sigh may sound disheartening to others, but Castiel knows better, and a smile is on his face as Gabriel answers with, “Yeah, yeah, I know you do, pipsqueak. Right back at ‘cha. Now promise me you won’t go around there anymore, alright? You don’t deserve that shit.”

“Yes, Gabriel. I promise,” Castiel replies, smile still firmly on his face.

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an evening to spend with a _lovely_ redhead. Bye, little bro!”

Under any other circumstance, Castiel would have rolled his eyes and simply hung up on his brother, but for once he finds himself laughing slightly as he bids his brother goodbye.

Once the phone call has ended, Castiel realizes that while he still feels slightly horrendous, speaking with Gabe actually did help, if only slightly. If nothing else, it proved to him that Gabriel did indeed care about him, and if that wasn’t comforting, he didn’t know what was.

The longer he sat and thought, though, any slight comfort he might have received from the phone call faded as the day’s events replayed in his mind constantly. He really wasn’t going to be able to go into that coffee shop anymore; maybe if more time had passed or maybe if he were a stronger man he could, but neither of those things were the case and he wasn’t even sure if he could under _those_ conditions.

He thought he was over Dean. Well, maybe not _over_ Dean, but he was at least at the point where if he saw something that reminded him of Dean or if he thought of him, he didn’t feel like his heart was being torn out of his chest anymore.

But now, now that feeling is back and it’s just as painful as it was years ago and Castiel has no damn clue what he’s going to do with himself. All he can do right now, though, is avoid the coffee shop, avoid Dean, and just hope for the best.

▫

Two weeks later, hoping for the best was proving useless and tiresome, and Castiel was barely in any better condition.

While he avoided the coffee shop at all costs, the distance didn’t reduce his thoughts or his feelings. Everything was a constant reminder of Dean again; he would pass by a car dealership that had some gorgeous classic car that Castiel knew nothing about but he was _sure_ Dean could have listed specifics about it. Another day, as he and Gabriel walked into a nearby mall to get dinner together, they strolled past a music store and faintly he could hear what he assumed was Led Zeppelin playing and could only think about sitting in Dean’s room listening to the same album crackling through Dean’s mother’s old record player. Later, his favorite stand at a nearby farmer’s market was having a special on all of their different pies.

No matter what, something managed to remind him of Dean and break his heart all over again.

Even though he took every precaution to _not_ end up at the coffee shop he used to love and frequent, it was difficult to not go near it without having to walk an extra twenty minutes in order to avoid it, so every so often he ended up at least walking _past_ it. And if he picked up his speed a little as he went past, well, that was no one’s business but his own.

That was just as awful though. Maybe even worse. Everything he’s wanted since age seventeen was just inside those doors, probably smiling politely at his customers and flirting with the pretty girls who twirled their hair and slid him their numbers. The thought alone made Castiel feel sick, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

Today was one of those days where he accidentally woke up later than intended and had no _choice_ but to walk past the coffee shop. Whenever he encountered it, he did his best to blatantly ignore it, keep his head forward, and walk. The difference about today, though, was that he had successfully ignored the shop on his way to class, but what started as a flurrying of snowflakes when he left his apartment turned into a much more serious storm and when he was just a few minutes away from campus, his phone dinged with an email informing him that his class was cancelled for the day.

With a sigh he turned around, heading for home and once again choosing the short walk home, even if it did mean he had to see the coffee shop again.

Quickly, though, it became much more difficult to see with the snow blowing and after deciding that he couldn’t take the cold any longer, he made the decision to stop in somewhere for a while until the snow calmed down.

Unfortunately, or maybe subconsciously, Castiel came to the one place he wanted to be at the least.

He debated just pushing on and doing his best to make it home, but knew that such a choice would ultimately not be wise.

For a few moments, Castiel stood outside of the shop, gearing himself for what was going to come. For all he knew, Dean might not even be working today and he could be worrying for absolutely no reason at all. With a burst of confidence, he quickly slipped inside the door, grateful at the warm burst of air and heavy scent of coffee he was greeted with, only to stop short in his tracks when he saw who was working at the counter. Again.

Even though he was sure he looked like a deer in headlights, Castiel did his best to push down any panic he felt swelling in his chest before striding up to the counter and without a second thought, quickly ordering his large coffee, black.

It was a few moments before there was any sort of response from Dean, and even then it was just to practically whisper his name, a swift breath that sounded too close to, _“Cas”_ for his liking. He flinched slightly before remembering himself and just repeating, “Large coffee, black. Please,” he added for good measure.

Dean looked as though he wanted to say more, say something _else_ rather than just treating Castiel as another customer in a long string of them, but obviously thought better of it before he choked out, “That’ll be $1.80.”

Castiel fished his wallet out of his bag, and for once didn’t even bother seeing if he had change. He simply handed over a five dollar bill, accepted his change, and moved over to the ‘Pick-Up’ section of the counter.

Another employee working that day, a young red-headed girl with freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks and a smile too bright for his liking called, “Large black coffee for Cas!” and handed him his beverage. He did his best to act polite but he’s sure there was no way he came across as such.

Finally, he sat down at one of the tables in the small shop and pulled out some of his notebooks and textbooks in an attempt to get some work done. As he worked, he forgot about Dean and where he was, and before he knew it, it was an hour and a half later and the snow had mostly slowed by now. He had drained his coffee long ago, and figured now would be as good a time as ever to head home.

Once he was sure he had all of his books packed back into his bag and had his coat and scarf wrapped tightly around himself, he stood up heading over to the door. He grabbed the empty cup from the table, and as he went to throw it out, he realized Dean had written his name on it and had, obviously, never asked for it.

Castiel huffed and tossed it in the trash, and even though he could practically _feel_ a pair of eyes he was sure were piercing and green burning into the back of his head, he didn’t stop or look back, and just started on the walk back home.

▫

Dean was working.

That’s basically all he could do anymore, no matter how much he loathed going into the same place he saw Cas a few weeks ago. He couldn’t focus on anything else no matter how hard he tried, and honestly, he tried.

He hadn’t known what to do with himself after seeing Castiel again, so he just did what he normally did. He slept, he drank, and he worked. Lather, rinse, repeat. The usual. Everything was going totally fine until Cas decided to show up in the shop for a _second_ time.

After the first surprise, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping Cas was going to stop in the shop again. But, no matter how much he secretly wished he could see the man who he was sure hated him again, he assumed it would never happen and had (mostly) accepted his fate.

That is, until one day Cas decided to walk into the coffee shop.

Dean was relatively sure Cas wasn’t here for a friendly visit, if his steely demeanor was anything to go off of. As soon as Dean saw the other man step into the shop, he was entirely sure that his heart stopped for at least a moment. The moment that Cas’ eyes landed on him, he froze up, clearly in a panic, before his face returned to its previous smooth and unaffected state. All he wanted was to be able to talk to Cas, to be able to apologize and just let him know that he _knows_ he fucked up and he hates himself for it.

But Cas wouldn’t give him the time of day – not that he could blame him.

Cas ordered his coffee, barely looking at Dean or even acknowledging him.

 _Fuck it,_ Dean thought.

“Cas,” he whispered, aloud this time.

The response he received was about as much as he expected when Cas just repeated this order, only this time adding on a harsh _‘please’_ for emphasis. Dean wanted to try again, his brain was _screaming_ at him to just say _something,_ but if there was one thing Dean could do, it was read Cas. Even now, even years after he left, and even though Cas would scarcely glance at him, he knew that the ‘please’ was for a lot more than a cup of coffee.

And as much as he hated it, hated himself, hated the situation, Dean knew it wasn’t his place anymore. He fucked Cas over, he knew that much, and if Cas didn’t want to talk to him, he couldn’t make him.

He cleared his thr

oat, praying that he could speak and _act_ properly, before he mutters out a quiet, “That’ll be $1.80.”

Dean is slightly surprised with the lack of exact change Cas handed him, but ultimately decides to just ignore it and hand him his change from his bill. He swiftly grabs a cup and without even thinking or asking for Cas’ name as he’s generally supposed to, he scribbles a quick _‘Cas’_ on the side, and moves the cup over to the other side of the counter for Charlie to take care of.

Once Cas has his drink and starts working, Dean can tell he’s not going to notice much else around him, and against his better judgment, indulges himself for what was supposed to just be a glance, but he ends up staring at Cas for almost the entire time he’s in the shop.

He still has the same mannerisms he had when they were younger; he chews on his pen in concentration, taps the tip of it against the desk rapidly when he’s getting frustrated at not being able to think of something, and the same excitement filters through him when he remembers something before scribbling it down with a small, pleased smile on his face.

All Dean can think about is how much he wishes he could go over there and kiss that damn smile, those perfect lips, and how much he wishes Cas wasn’t just pretending he didn’t even know him.

Sometime later, Cas has clearly decided he’s done enough work, or maybe it’s just cleared up enough for him to leave; it’s probably the latter, because Dean doubts that Cas would have willingly come into _this_ shop to get work done when he could have gone anywhere else or simply stayed home to achieve the same task.

As soon as the dark mop of hair is out the door, Dean feels like he’s going to puke, and he’s sure that seeing Cas leave is worse than the shock of watching him enter.

He hates himself.

He _loathes_ himself.

It’s his own damn fault for all the shit going on between them, for the years apart, for the hurt and discomfort and there’s nothing he can do about it, not now.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s sprinting into the employee bathroom in the back because he genuinely _is_ going to be sick now because everything makes fucking _sense_ now.

He still fucking loves Cas.

▫

Twenty minutes later, he wanders back out into the front of the shop where Charlie is waiting, looking bored.

“What just happened?” She asks, once she notices him walking behind the counter. “First you stare at that guy the _entire_ time he’s here, and then as soon as he’s gone you rush off? I mean, really, Winchester, nut up and ask the guy out already rather than pining over him like that. God knows you hit on every other hottie with a body that steps foot in here.”

Any other time he would have been glad to interact with Charlie; to laugh and joke and go along with her banter. But right now was not even close to being one of those times, and it was a moment before he could speak again because he’s not entirely sure he’s over being sick.

“Charlie...” Dean starts only to stop short. He has no fucking clue what he was about to say, but now that he’s started he knows she won’t let him stop there.

“What is it?” she responds, actually concerned now as she steps towards him and reaches an arm out to him to keep him steady. He must look really bad if she’s switched from sassy to worried so quickly.

“That was him, that was Cas. He came in a few weeks ago and I was just trying to ignore it, but I fucking _can’t,_ Charlie, I can’t ignore it when I’m still fucking in love with him. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that when he won’t even speak to me? He acted like he didn’t even _know me,_ and I have no god damn idea what I’m doing anymore.” The words came out in a rush and leave him reeling, his breathing heavier and he’s pretty sure if he doesn’t calm down relatively soon he’s going to start hyperventilating.

Charlie’s eyes are blown wide and her hand that had previously been helping Dean stay upright has flown up to her mouth and after what seems like an eternity, she finally, _finally_ answers.

“That was _Cas?!_ As in your _ex-boyfriend_ Cas?! _”_ Charlie shrieks. “Oh my _God._ What do you mean he came in here a few weeks ago? Why did you never tell me! Dammit, Dean, there’s no way you’re okay right now, how are you even still working here?”

With his eyes shut tight Dean smacks his hands over his face, head shaking back and forth. He has no clue what he’s doing anymore, and he doesn’t know what in the hell he’s going to do after this.

“I have no clue, Charlie,” he replies from behind his hands. “I have absolutely no clue.”

▫

It’s another few days before Castiel steps foot into the shop again because, even if he practically feels his heart shatter again any time he even thinks about the shop, he genuinely does enjoy it there. It’s quiet and quaint and the coffee is surprisingly good, so it’s a perfect place to sit and get work done. He gears himself up for the trip over to the shop and hopes that Dean isn’t there.

As he walks, he does his best to keep himself in check and confident but he can still feel fear bubbling up in him as he draws closer near the shop. Eventually he’s outside of it and decides, _screw it,_ throwing the door open and walking inside.

Once he’s stepped inside, he sees the back of Dean’s head and the curve of his back as he prepares drinks and food for customers. The same red-headed girl from before is working again, only this time she’s manning the register and taking orders.

She doesn’t seem to have much interest in him, and doesn’t say much past, “What can I get you?” when he walks up to the counter. He orders and pays, and quickly, as if almost forgotten the red-head utters, “Oh! Can I have a name for you drink, please?” She’s grabbing one of the cups from next to the register and a sharpie and is poised to write.

“Castiel,” he responds quietly hoping Dean doesn’t hear him, and the girls head snaps up as her eyes go wide.

“ _Castiel?”_ She repeats, a touch too loud because Dean’s head _also_ snaps up and suddenly his eyes are on him. Castiel swallows, and just moves down the line and waits for his drink. He’s suddenly _really_ regretting coming here. There were plenty of Starbucks, why hadn’t he just gone to one of those?

Amidst his cursing and damning of himself for making the poor decision to come back to this coffee shop, he hears his order being called out in Dean’s rough timbre and he quickly grabs the drink and sits, avoiding looking at Dean at all costs.

He feels like he might be sick and does his best to steady his breathing, but just like last time, as soon as he begins focusing on his work he tunes out everything and everyone else in the shop and works quickly, silently, and efficiently.

That is, until he hears _another_ familiar voice call out, “ _Castiel?”_

He sucks in a quick breath, because he’s suddenly torn.

Castiel is _positive_ that voice belongs to none other than Sam Winchester, and while he’s horrified to speak to the boy he hasn’t seen in years, the thought of sitting and having a conversation with the boy who is more a man now actually makes him actually _smile._

He may have been in love with Dean, but he also loved Sam.

Sam was intelligent and kind and he loved just as fiercely as his brother did.

He hears footsteps coming his way, and where he’s expecting the same gangly 14 year old from before Dean _left,_ stands a grown, moose-sized 18 year old. He’s clad in the same uniform and apron as Dean and the red-head are and he realizes he works here.

“Sam,” Castiel breaths out quietly in greeting. “It’s nice to see you.” The smile and warmth in his voice are real, and he’s sure that the smile on Sam’s face is just as genuine.

“You too, man. God, it’s been awhile, huh?” Castiel knows Sam means it in a kind way, a way two friends such as them might speak after being apart for a while but it still cuts into him, because it’s not as though it’s _Castiel’s_ fault they haven’t seen each other in so long.

“Yes, it has been quite a while.” The smile has faded from his face by now but he still feels a slight happiness at seeing the boy again. “You’ve gotten tall I see.”

This pulls a laugh from Sam, and the sound is so different yet similar at the same time.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” Sam returns, his voice laced with amusement. “It really is great to see you, Cas; I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I used to see you all the time.”

There’s a sadness to his voice now that Castiel had not been expecting at all. He didn’t think any of the Winchester’s would have missed him at all, since Dean seemed to have no trouble leaving him behind.

“I suppose that was the case, yes,” Castiel retorts, doing his best to keep from sounding rude. He can see Dean stopped and looking at the two of them but refuses to spare an actual glance over at him.

He and Sam speak for a few minutes more, and finally Castiel decides he can’t take much more of this and is going to pack up.

“I’m afraid I need to go, Sam, though it honestly was very nice getting to talk to you again.”

“Yeah, man, it really was,” the smile is on Sam’s face again before quickly disappearing. “Before you go, though, I just wanted to apologize. I mean, it was Dean’s decision to leave, but I always felt bad for leaving you, too-“

“Sam,” Castiel cuts off sharply. “Please stop. I’m sorry, I just, I can’t hear this. Don’t worry about it though, okay? I’ve never blamed you and you have nothing to feel bad for.”

“But, Cas,” he starts and Castiel grabs his things with the intention to leave before this conversation can continue.

“Like I said, Sam, nothing to worry about. Nice seeing you.”

He didn’t wait for a response, simply tossed out his empty cup and exits the shop. Before he can go far, though, the bell to the door is ringing again and someone is running up behind him.

“Cas! Wait up a sec!” Slowly, Castiel turns around and is faced once again with Sam. He’s holding out a piece of paper with a phone number written on it and for a moment Castiel is just confused. “I missed you, y’know? So if you want to hang out or something, or if you want to come here when, y’know...there’s different people working, just give me a ring, okay? We can set something up. I genuinely missed seeing you.”

At this, Castiel couldn’t help the smile on his face before he took the piece of paper and nodded to the man in front of him.

“I’ll call you at some point, Sam. I missed seeing you too,” and with that Castiel has returned to walking and after about twenty minutes, he’s home again and collapses onto his bed. It may still break his heart to have to encounter Dean, but maybe now he won’t have to.

▫

There were a few times after this that Castiel ended up at the shop.

He had called Sam a few days after their initial interaction and had figured out when he was working, and more importantly, when Dean was _not._ It was a perfect set up, because Castiel could still enjoy his favorite coffee and atmosphere without making himself uncomfortable.

Things had been going well and he and Sam had been spending time catching up, though it was hard for the other man when most of his life had revolved around the one person Castiel really did not want to talk about.

But then, one day when he knows Sam is supposed to be working, he steps into the shop expecting someone taller and with shaggier hair but is greeted with green eyes and freckles across cheek bones. He pivots on his feet, poised to walk out again when he hears a quiet,

“Large coffee, black?” muttered from behind the counter.

Castiel sighs, but ultimately turns around and nods his head and Dean, handing over his money.

“Sammy had to call off today, so I came in to fill his spot. Sorry you got stuck with me,” Dean said as he handed over Castiel’s change, and if Castiel didn’t know better he would swear Dean sounded bitter, maybe even hurt. Even if that were the case though, there was no way Castiel was going to feel any sort of pity for him. The amount of hurt Dean had caused him over the years was innumerable, and he had no right to be upset with Castiel for wanting to see his _friend,_ even if said friend was his younger brother.

He may not have Sam to talk to today, but he chooses to sit and work anyway. He mostly ignores Dean, and Dean mostly ignores him, other than to offer more coffee which Castiel gratefully accepts. Since he’s been around more to sit and speak with Sam, he’d begun asking for his coffee ‘for here’ so instead of having to go up and order new coffee once he was out, every so often someone would walk over and refill it for him. Generally it was someone else, but today it was all Dean.

“Refill?” Dean spoke softly and Castiel simply glanced at him and nodded quickly before going back to work. As Dean was about to walk away, Castiel looked up and breathed a quiet, “Thank you.”

All he got was a hard nod in response, and it wasn’t as if he could exactly blame Dean for it. It’s not as though he was being the most polite customer.

After his first refill, Castiel was having a much harder time concentrating on his work.

He scarcely looked up from it, mostly just staring and reading the same sentences 7 times, still uncomprehending. But whenever he did chance a look up over at the counter, it was usually just in time to see Dean’s head or eyes snap away from him and look at something else.

The longer he sits, the less he gets done. Every small glance at the bow of Dean’s lips or sharp lines of his cheek bones hurts and eventually he can’t take it anymore. Like usual, he packs up his things, and for the first time, as he’s leaving he glances back at the counter and the person standing there.

This time, Dean doesn’t look away and for a moment Castiel is stuck there, eyes and body unmoving, locked in with Dean. He shakes himself out of his stupor, finally, and makes his way back to his apartment, cursing himself the whole way.

▫

 

Dean had no fucking clue what was going on.

Granted, he hadn’t known even since the first time Cas had walked in, but still. It was just getting worse.

When he had first seen Sam approach Cas and talk to him, he couldn’t help the betrayal, and dare he say, jealousy he felt at the sight. He dealt with it though, at least while they were at the shop. As soon as the two of them were home, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” Dean practically spit at him.

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam responses, feigning innocence.

“Don’t even start with that shit, Sam,” Dean growls at him. “Why the hell were you talking to Cas? C’mon, man, we both know that you know how fucked I am right now, do you really think I need that?”

Dean had expected some sort of regret or apology, maybe a, _‘you’re right, Dean, that was fucked up of me,’_ but all he got was a glare and an annoyed looking Sammy.

“Dean, you _know_ I was friends with him too. Just because you left him didn’t mean I had to, but I _did,_ because you’re my brother. I’m allowed to miss people and I’m allowed to talk to my _friends.”_

Suddenly, Dean was practically seeing red and he was sure if he stayed in the same room as his brother right now, the result wouldn’t be good.

“Y’know what, Sam? Go fuck yourself. Or maybe Cas, since you’re such good friends now,” with that, Dean grabbed the nearest and fullest bottle of liquor and stomped his way into his room, slamming the door, trying to get away from his brother.

He didn’t bother with a glass, just drank straight from the bottle and grimaced after the first swallow. He was still reeling from that conversation. Sam shouldn’t be friends with Cas, should he? The good, brotherly thing to do would be to actually have _Dean’s_ back for once.

Dean could fix what happened between him and Cas, if he could just have the opportunity. Every time he even tried to speak to the other man, he shut him down or ignored him completely, acting as if they were total strangers and had never even spoken before.

But Sam comes in and suddenly Cas is all _buddy-buddy_ with him when he won’t even give Dean the time of _day?_

Now that was just fucked up of him.

So maybe he wasn’t really mad at Sam.

Maybe he was just jealous and hurt and upset and angry. So sue him.

The more Dean sat and drank though, the more Dean thought and the less sense it made. The only consistent thing that he figured, though, was that he really had no room to even be kind of upset because looking back, Sam _was_ Cas’ friend. Probably more of a friend than Dean ever was to him.

It was Dean’s fault, anyway, that he _and_ Sam had to leave Cas. Maybe Cas could have been happier with someone like Sam; someone smart, someone better than him, someone not afraid to stand up to their bastard father.

After a few more shots, the majority of Dean’s thoughts weren’t even coherent anymore.

Finally, he dragged himself into bed and laid there, bottle still clutched in hand.

“Fuck Cas,” Dean slurred. “Fuck Sammy, too.”

 _This is your own fault,_ a voice said in the back of his head. He didn’t know how to shut it up, so like he did for everything else, he just drank.

And after that, he drank some more.

And then a little more, until finally he just passed out cold.

▫

Somehow, Castiel was continuously winding up at the coffee shop during Dean’s shift.

Every time he even caught a glimpse of the man he debated turning around and high-tailing it out of the shop, or maybe out of the state. But he couldn’t leave the state or school so he supposed he’s just going to have to deal with it for right now.

No matter how loathe he was to be there, to be around the man who shattered his heart and his _life;_ he was constantly drawn to him. More and more his eyes would wandered from his textbooks and notes over to Dean, where he would just be restocking cups or filling orders, like any other worker there. Before Castiel realized it, ten minutes had passed and he was still looking at the man at the counter. He was smiling flirtatiously at some young blonde girl who had walked in a minute ago. Castiel had barely noticed her, but now he couldn’t _stop,_ not when the smile and wink that used to be reserved for him was so easily thrown at someone else.

He couldn’t hold back the scoff that bubbled up and out of his throat, and suddenly both the girl’s and Dean’s eyes landed on him. Castiel could feel a blush rising on his cheeks, and the blonde was clearly annoyed with him and casually stomped over to pick up her drink, but not without a quick glare in his direction first.

Dean, though. Dean was still looking at him, eyes wider than normal and his mouth was hanging open a bit. The longer they look at each other, the warmer Castiel can feel his cheeks getting. It must be visible by now, because Dean’s lack jaw quickly closes and a small smirk is plastered onto his face.

It’s familiar and different all at once; it’s just like it used to be, endearing and _perfect_ and Castiel absolutely loves it, but the sight of it also puts a knot in his stomach rather than the old butterflies he had grown so used to during their time together.

The look on Dean’s face with that smirk is enough to add fuel to the fire in Castiel, embarrassment being the furthest thing from his mind now. All he can think about how _angry_ Dean makes him, how, _of course,_ Dean finds this entertaining. Finds Castiel’s _pain_ entertaining. He had thought they had come to some sort of agreement in that he would come to the coffee shop every so often and Dean was to leave him alone. Clearly, though, they had _not,_ since now the man in question was making his way slowly over to the table Castiel was set up at, smirk still present on his face.

Once Dean was closer to Castiel, a glare took over all of the pink on his cheeks and Dean’s smirk softened. He looked just like he did when they were eighteen. The same smile and freckles, the same perfect mouth and nose. Of course, he had filled out some and maybe grew a few inches, but for the most part he looked exactly like he used to. Like _Castiel’s_ Dean.

Castiel did his best to just tear his eyes from Dean, but whether he did or not didn’t exactly matter when the bow-legged man was pulling out a chair across from Castiel and sitting down.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, the tension high and air thick. Dean sucked in a breath, as if to start talking, but Castiel quickly put a hand up, effectively stopping him.

“Shouldn’t you be working, rather than sitting here and distracting me from my work?”

Dean’s face quickly softened, and any ounce of confidence he had was swiftly removed. He looked nervous now, which made Castiel even _more_ uneasy, because out of all the years he had known Dean, he could count on one hand how many times he had seen him this worked up.

“Probably,” Dean started, his voice a low, mumbling mess. “Look, Cas, let me just-“

“No,” Castiel stopped him abruptly. “Don’t you dare. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, alright? I simply enjoy coming here for the coffee and work space. I have no desire to speak with you, do you understand?”

Whatever Dean seemed to be feeling at the moment looked to be a cross between anger and still nervousness. His jaw was clenched, but his fingers still fumbled together.

“I get it, Cas, okay? I know I fucked up, I _know_ it. But why are you here then? Don’t you dare say it’s because of the damn _coffee_ or it’s because of _Sam._ You haven’t been here when he’s working in days and you know it. So please, just hear me out, okay? I’m sorry for what I did, I _know_ I fucked up. You gotta believe me, man,” the voice Castiel once knew as booming yet kind, was now simply soft and sad. He wanted nothing more than to gather Dean in his arms and just forgive him, tell him that it’s okay and _of course_ he can forgive him, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

Castiel sighed again, scarcely even sparing Dean a glance until finally he spoke.

“Dean,” he began, trying to sound sure of himself but the name came out broken and mangled. “I can’t just forgive you, you have to know that. You did more than just leave, you _broke_ me. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?” As he spoke, his words became harder, harsher. At least Dean had the decency to avert his gaze and look ashamed for what he had done.

“I figured you wouldn’t be able to forgive me, Cas, I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I hated doing it, alright? And that I’m just so fucking sorry for how everything happened. I really am.”

“I believe you.”

The snap of Dean’s head was almost audible as he looked back up at Castiel. If he didn’t know better, he might even say Dean looked hopeful.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Castiel began. “I believe that you’re sorry, I can tell you are. I _know_ you are. That doesn’t make up for what happened, though, that doesn’t _change_ anything. I can’t just give you a free pass after years because you decide to _finally_ say something to me. I’m going to need more than that.” He was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes hard and unwavering. He didn’t want to admit it, least of all to others, but he missed Dean. He _wanted_ him back in his life, even if it was just as friends. Right now, though, he didn’t think he could do anything more. He wasn’t sure he could handle anything more than friendship, so this was him, givingDean an out. If he wanted to leave again, to forget all about Castiel and leave him alone, this was his chance.

Dean didn’t seem to be taking it though.

“I want to make it up to you, honest. Whatever I can do to show you how sorry I am, I’d like to be able to do that, Cas, please,” Dean replied, practically pleading, his eyes sincere and kind.

“Then just... just go slow, okay? We can be… friends; I think I can handle that, even after everything. But just give me time, alright? Just let things happen and we can make it up as we go, I guess.”

The smile Dean gave him then was so bright it was practically blinding, until Dean seemed to realize what Castiel was really saying and it softened into something much more reasonable. It hits Castiel how much he missed Dean, how much he missed his smile and his laugh, his obnoxious singing _whenever_ he got the chance, and it makes him glad that now, maybe he can witness all of this again. Maybe Dean Winchester can be a part of his life again.

Dean, still smiling, stands from the table and quickly grabs Castiel’s pen and jots something down in his notebook.

“That’s my number, okay? So if you ever want to hang out, or if you need me, or anything, just go ahead and call,” the smile in his voice was infectious, and Castiel finds a smile growing on his face in response.

“I will,” he says in response, and surprisingly, he means it. As Dean gets back to work, Castiel packs up and heads out of the shop, but not before throwing a wave and smile in Dean’s direction.

As soon as he exits the shop and is down the street a ways, he stops.

He is _friends_ with Dean again. They spoke. They’re talking. Cas has his phone number, for Christ’s sake. After all he had been doing to try and avoid him, to keep Dean _out_ of his life, one short apology was all it took for that resolve to crumble and for Castiel to accept it.

Castiel wanted to be mad at himself, wanted to be mad at _Dean,_ but all he could feel right now was a small sense of felicity at what had just taken place. Yes, he may have given in, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t what he had wanted all along.

He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

▫

Of all the things that Dean had expected to happen once he and Cas had finally talked, it was never like this.

He had expected for Cas to get upset, vow to never speak to him again and leave. Maybe to hit him, or curse at him, _something_ like that. He had never thought it would go as well as it did.

When he approached Cas, he really had no idea what he was going to even say. He’d had years to try and come up with something, and yet he still came up blank. Once he started talking, though, the words spilled out and that was that. All he could do was hope Cas didn’t sock him in the mouth, because really, he has no doubt that that’s what he would do if the roles were reversed.

Dean flinched inwardly, as he had hundreds of times before when he thought about what happened between he and Cas, but it was soon replaced with a smile when he remembered what had happened between he and Cas _today._

Cas may not have forgiven him, which Dean couldn’t even begin to blame him for, but it was a start. Aside from everything else Cas had been to him, he had been Dean’s best friend. Losing him was more than just losing some boyfriend who he’d never see again – he left one of the single most important people in his _life,_ and he could never forgive himself for it, even if Cas eventually could.

Giving Cas his phone number and telling him to call had been a long shot, but he couldn’t help it if he was hopeful.

Now all he could do was wait and simply hope that his phone rang.

▫

Hours. Castiel had spent hours sitting at home, staring at the page in his notebook with the phone number written on it when he was supposed to be studying. How was he supposed to get any work done when he couldn’t stop thinking about Dean and his charm and his damn smile no matter how much he resented him?

He had tried just flipping the page of the notebook and focusing on something else. When that didn’t work, he switched subjects entirely but was still drawn to the book and found himself focusing more on the cover of his closed notebook than the one open in his lap.

With a groan he decided he wasn’t going to get _anything_ done under these conditions and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Except now instead of staring at the notebook, he was staring at the number punched into his phone.

It was far too early to give Dean a call. They had only seen each other a few hours ago, and he didn’t want to seem too eager. He mentally berated himself because he wasn’t some teenager about to call someone he had a crush on, dammit, and he didn’t want to be acting like this.

In the end, he came to the conclusion that staring at a note book and a cell phone was not going to do him any good in the long run. His best bet would just be to relax, maybe sleep on it, and decide what he wanted to do tomorrow.

With that in mind, he got himself into bed and finally let himself unwind from the events of the day and just sink into his mattress. He turned his head, glancing at his phone where it sat waiting on his night stand and sighed again. As unwound as he may be after the long day, he still was worried about what was going to come and what he was going to do.

Perhaps it would be in his best interest to just call Dean and say never mind, that he can’t handle it, and he’s sorry but they can’t be friends.

But that sounded even worse than just suffering through and being friends with him, because at least then Dean was in his life again. So that option wasn’t going to work.

There were too many thoughts running through Castiel’s head at once for him to be able to properly analyze them, and after a while of staring at his ceiling and just _thinking,_ his eyes drooped closed and he fell asleep.

▫

_Honestly, Castiel couldn’t believe his life right now._

_He had graduated high school and been Valedictorian, his brother had actually_ shown up _for his graduation, and now he was spending the night with the one person he would ever want to._

_The two of them were lying next to each other in Cas’ bed. Graduation had ended a few hours ago, and after a large and loud dinner between the two of their families, they ended up back at the Novak home, together._

_Everyone else was still out and thought nothing of it when the two boys announced that they were tired and wanted to just be with each other for a while. Be with each other meaning have ridiculously loud celebratory sex while no one else was home, of course. No one really thought anything of their absence; they probably just assumed they were hanging out by themselves or maybe with other friends. The two of them knew no one expected them to be doing what they actually were, except for maybe Gabriel and Sam, the only people who had any clue that their relationship was nowhere near as platonic as it may have seemed._

_They could have gone out to one of the many parties they had been invited to between the two of them. It was graduation night, after all, so of course that warranted celebrating and drinking, but they would rather just be alone._

_“Are you excited?” Cas speaks quietly, trying not to break the atmosphere they’ve created._

_“For what?” Dean responds. “College?”_

_They’re laying together, legs and bodies intertwined and connected, sated and happy._

_“I guess, yeah. For the future in general, maybe. Are you excited?”_

_“I’m excited we’re finally out of that hell hole of a high school,” Dean replied with a laugh._

_Castiel shoved lightly at Dean’s shoulder, laughing along with him nonetheless._

_“Shut up, you know what I mean. We’re gonna be in college now, Dean, we’re_ adults. _That’s a huge step!”_

_“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. It is big, but I am pretty excited for it.”_

_“Are you excited to be an adult with me, though?” Castiel spoke softly, in a breath. “We can finally actually act like a couple, Dean; we’re going to be away at college. Everything will be better now.” He began placing kisses along Dean’s jaw line as he spoke, but stopped when he felt him tense up._

_“What? What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing, nothing,” Dean assured him. “It’s just, you’re right. We’re adults. We can be ourselves. And that’s kind of fucking huge.”_

_“Yes, it is pretty huge I suppose,” Castiel  admitted. He wasn’t entirely convinced or pleased with Dean’s answer though, so he continued placing kisses to his face. “I love you, Dean.”_

_A moment passed before Dean responded._

_“Yeah,” Dean stuttered, clearing his throat. “I love you too, man.”_

_Something sounded off in his voice, but Castiel didn’t think much of it, and ignored it. They were together, they were happy, and most of all, they were done with school and drama._

▫

With a gasp for breath Castiel woke from his sleep, pushing himself up onto his elbows. It wasn’t as if his dream had been frightening, it’s that it wasn’t. Now that he was talking to Dean again everything came rushing back, everything that he had tried to repress. His dreams were just memories from before, from when he and Dean were still together, and he did his best to just forget about them.

Sleep ended up not doing much for helping Castiel in making a decision about what he would do with Dean, with his phone number.

It was too early in the morning for him to make such a decision, so for the moment, his only choice was to get the hell out of bed and get himself a cup of coffee.

As he walked through his apartment, he realized he must have slept in later than usual because the sun was shining brightly through the windows. With a glance at his watch, he noticed it was almost 11 o’clock rather than his usual early rising of eight or earlier.

He shook his head, trying to shake the dream, or rather, _memory,_ off of himself before continuing his day.

In the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and popped some bread into the toaster for something to eat. He was never big on huge breakfast foods, even if that was the most important meal of the day. He’d prefer a burger or something substantial at lunch and dinner over having a huge breakfast, especially when he’s woken up as late as he has today.

Once his coffee is brewed and poured and his toast is warm and buttered, he sits down at his table to eat and drink and just take a moment to relax and compose himself.

A morning cup of coffee has always helped him clear his head and made him feel better in times of distress or just normal mornings, but for once it wasn’t doing much to help. He remembered his phone, just sitting on his night stand, Dean’s phone number probably still typed into the call log, waiting to be dialed.

With a huff, he decided sitting around and debating this constantly wasn’t going to get him anywhere. His chair gets pushed back swiftly behind him as he purposefully marches into his room and up to his night stand, where he snatches the phone up.

Without a second thought, he presses the ‘dial’ button and just listens to the line ringing.

It’s a few moments before anyone answers and he’s hit with an overwhelming feeling of nervousness, and he debates just hitting the end button and deleting the number from the phone and maybe just smashing it to pieces for good measure. But in the next moment he hears a click on the other line, though, and a heavy, “Hello?” that makes his mind go entirely blank.

He struggles for words, struggles for breath and is unsure what to do. It’s only once he hears the same gruff tone spit out a, “Who is this?” that he comes back to himself

“H-hi,” he stutters, mentally cursing himself. “Dean, it’s Cas- Castiel.”

Instantly, he hears Dean’s tone brighten and can’t help the lift in his own mood.

“Cas! Cas, hey, I wasn’t sure when you would call. If you would _even_ call…” Dean trails off, but quickly comes back to himself. “But yeah, hey!”

“You said that already,” Castiel reminds him with a laugh. On the other end, he hears a nervous laugh escape from Dean.

“Yeah, I guess I did. So, what’s up? Did you need anything?”

And Castiel is back to unsure and confused. Why _did_ he call right now? He knew he couldn’t take the constant debating anymore, but he could have at least figured out what he was going to say before actually making the phone call itself.

“Oh, I just… I have no idea. To be honest with you, I didn’t know if I was going to call, but then I couldn’t take it anymore and just decided to do it. I didn’t really think about it.”

“Well that’s totally fine. We can figure it out together, right?” Dean’s voice is soft and Castiel finds himself melting from it. This was the last thing he wanted. He doesn’t need to fall in love with Dean again – no, he doesn’t _want_ to love Dean again.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Castiel responds, despite the voice in the back of his head telling him this is a bad idea. “Would you maybe want to do something? I don’t know, if you don’t want to that’s totally fine, like I said I didn’t have anything planned when I started this phone call so I don’t really know what to say, and to be honest I don’t exactly know the proper etiquette for something like this-“

“Cas, Cas, slow down,” Dean said with a laugh. “You’re fine, man, just chill out. We can do something. We could go grab a bite to eat or something if you want? Anything but the coffee shop, because man, I am gettin’ sick of that place real quick.”

Castiel nods in response to Dean and then remembers there’s no possible way Dean could know what his response is because, well, this is a phone call. That means he needs to be audible, not visible. He knows this.

So why is Dean making him so flustered?

“Food sounds good, I suppose. I was just about to eat toast, but an actual meal sounds much more appealing.”

“Man, you and your damn hate for breakfast foods. How can you hate big breakfasts? _No one_ hates pancakes and bacon!”

Before he notices, he’s smiling and laughing at Dean, and everything feels like it used to.

“Not all of us have a breakfast fetish, Dean; you’re just going to have to get over it.” Dean chuckles in response, but then it dies down and everything is quiet.

The last thing Castiel wants is for things to become awkward already, when they’re not even actually physically _with_ each other, so he speaks before tensions can get too high.

“Why don’t we meet at the diner on near campus? Then you can get your breakfast and I can get real food.”

“Yeah, Cas, that sounds great,” Dean responds, his voice low. He knows that’s just how Dean talks and he means nothing of it, but suddenly he’s a bit short of breath because he knows how Dean sounds after he’s orgasmed, and _fuck_ if that isn’t almost the voice. He refuses to let himself get distracted by this, and clears his throat, trying to distract himself.

“Alright, then. Meet at, say, 12:30?”

“Sounds perfect, Cas. See you there!” Without anything else being said, the other line shuts off and he throws his phone onto his bed before falling onto it face down himself.

He has no fucking clue what he’s doing, but apparently he’s doing it.

▫

After a few moments of lying on his bed, debating calling Dean back and calling the whole thing off, Castiel lifts himself from his bed and heads into the bathroom to shower.

He takes a quick shower and dresses as fast as he can so he can get ready before talking himself out of this. He doesn’t care if he gets to the diner earlier than Dean, just as long as he gets there he won’t back out. Probably.

Once he’s out of his apartment and walking towards the eatery, he almost turns back at least 7 times. Each time, though, he thinks that maybe this will be good for him, good for both of them. This could be the closure he definitely has needed ever since Dean left, and he knows that this could help him.

Maybe calling Dean Winchester is one of the greatest ideas he’s ever had, because suddenly he’s glad he’s done it. He can finally get _over_ this thing with Dean.

So long as his perfect face and ass don’t ruin it for him.

He finally makes it to the diner, and he was right in that he would get there earlier than Dean would, because as he walks in he sees a clock on the wall that reads 12:10.

He hopes he can take sitting here and waiting for the next twenty minutes.

A few short moments later, he’s situated at a booth, playing games on his phone and waiting for Dean. When its 12:20 and there’s still ten minutes left to wait, someone slides into the booth across him. Looking up, Cas is greeted with a sharp green gaze and is slightly shocked to see that Dean is already here.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel starts. “I wasn’t expecting you for a while longer.”

Dean let out a nervous chuckle and Castiel swears he could listen to that sound all day. After years devoid of hearing it, he forgot how much he loved it.

“Yeah, I didn’t really expect to see you here this early either. I got too impatient to wait, though, so I left early. Figured I’d just sit here and do pretty much what you’ve been doing.”

Castiel lets out a small laugh and pockets his phone, turning his full attention to Dean.

“This isn’t going to be weird, is it?” Dean suddenly asks quietly. There’s a pregnant pause before Castiel responds, and even when he starts, he still isn’t sure of what exactly is about to come out of his mouth.

“I hope not,” he begins, stopping for a moment to collect his thoughts. “I think this will be good. For us, I mean.” The _‘good for me’_ is left unsaid but obviously there, and Dean just nods along with him.

“Yeah, I, uh. I guess it will be. That’s good at least. I’m glad.”

And at that, things _were_ a little weird, but Dean clearly didn’t want it to be. He did his best to defuse the situation in one of the only ways he knows how, with food.

“So, what are you feelin’ food wise? It’s lunch time now, so I know you won’t be getting anything breakfast food, but then again, I’m sure even if it _were_ breakfast time you wouldn’t,” Dean teased, smirk present on his face and successfully breaks the tension.

From then on out, everything is easy. It’s like old times; playful banter is thrown back and forth and everything is good. _Great,_ even. As positive as Cas was trying to be about this, he wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out, and honestly, it was going better than expected.

“So what have you been doing for the past four years?” Dean asks at one point, and though they tried to ignore this topic for as long as they could, Cas supposes it was time they got to it.

“I’ve been… I’ve been okay, I suppose. Things weren’t always very good, but I talk to Gabriel a lot and he does his best, so I’ve been alright. How have you been though?” Cas’ voice is tight as he speaks, but he does his best to remain calm. Dean seems to just _know_ how Cas is feeling, because he smiles reassuringly and suddenly Cas _is_ calm.

“I mean, I’ve been doin’ alright. Not much different from high school, I guess. I took a couple classes at a community college in Topeka, which is where I went after, uh, after I left.” With that, _Dean_ is the visibly uncomfortable one and Castiel just wants this situation to go away. He wants things to be okay and normal, he doesn’t want them to be anything like they are now.

“That’s good,” Cas says, trying to be supportive and make Dean feel better. It’s funny, because never did he think he’d be trying to make Dean feel better should they have ever met again. There’s still a wistful and sad look on Dean’s face, but he brightens slightly so Cas thinks that must be worth something. “And how was Sam?” Cas had already spoken with Sam in person, but he knew if there was any topic that would make Dean loosen up, it was this one. Sam had always been a source of pride for the man.

“God, Sammy was his normal self. Smart as hell, like always, did his best in everything. But damn did he grow; do you remember when he was just a gangly lookin’ thing?” Dean said with a laugh. “Now he’s taller than me, which, not fair because _I’m_ the older brother.” Then, though, the sad look is back on his face, and Cas has no choice but to question it.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

“Nothing, it’s nothing really. Sammy and I just fought a couple weeks back I guess. But we’re fine now, or I guess, I’m fine now. Nothin’ to worry about,” Dean finished, smile too bright to be believable, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so Cas nodded his head and moved on.

They sat together for almost two hours, talking and catching up, smiling and laughing. There were few scarce moments where things looked as though they were going to take a turn for a worse, but between the two of them they kept everything on track and nothing detrimental to their relationship happened.

Their food had been finished long ago, now they just sat nursing cups of coffee each. There was a lull in the conversation for the moment, albeit not uncomfortable, but that was when Cas noticed Dean was staring at him again, just like he would in the coffee shop.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Dean looks taken aback for a moment, as if he thought Cas wouldn’t say anything about it.

“Doing what?” Dean replies after a moment, still looking at him.

“Staring at me, almost constantly. I don’t know why you do it.” Dean sighed, and Cas swears he could see the tips of his ears and cheeks burn a light shade of pink. Absently, Cas wonders how low it travels before his gaze slides down to the collar of his shirt, curious. Quickly, though, he snaps himself out of it and pulls his gaze back up to Dean’s eyes. Of course he noticed, though, and his trademark smirk is ever present as always.

“Watcha lookin’ at, Cas?” He teases. Now it’s Castiel’s turn to blush, but he does his best to keep his voice steady when he speaks.

“Nothing, Dean, now please don’t avoid the question. Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Castiel finally manages again after a moment.

“Nothing,” Dean mumbles. “I just, I can’t stop looking at you. I mean, God, Cas, you haven’t changed at all and I apparently forgot how gorgeous you are.”

From anyone else, it would sound like a line, something used in cheap bars to pick someone up. But the sincerity in Dean’s eyes is loud and clear, and Cas has no choice but to believe him. That doesn’t make it right, though.

“Believe me, Dean, I have changed,” Castiel replies, harsher than he means to. Again, the mood is dropped and this time Cas doesn’t want to do anything to lessen it. There is tension between them, yes, and things may be awkward, but neither of them will ever get any closure unless they just speak like adults.

“You’re right,” Dean grumbles with his eyes cast downward. “I don’t know you anymore, not really at least. Of course you’ve changed, hell, _I’ve_ changed, but probably not enough.” The end was too low and mumbled for Cas to understand, and before he could stop to ask, Dean continued speaking. “I’m sorry. I know you said that just saying it won’t mean anything, but I am genuinely so god damn sorry for what happened between us. I know it was my fault, and my fault alone, but I needed you to know that I know I screwed up and I hope that maybe after some time you could forgive me. If you can’t find it in yourself, I completely understand. I just needed you to know that.”

At this, Cas is taken aback.

These are words he’s wanted to hear _since_ Dean left and now here they are, being said to him sincerely and seriously and Cas has no damn clue how to even respond, so all he can say is,

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s been years.”

“No, Cas, you don’t _get it,”_ Dean begins vehemently. He’s suddenly speaking in a more urgent manner, much more clearly than before. “I need to make sure that you know how sorry I am because what I did to you was practically inexcusable. I’m still not over the fact that I actually fucked up everything I had with you, everything I _wanted.”_

Castiel is torn.

All he wants is to say it’s okay, to take Dean back, to be what he wants again but he can’t do that. So he does what he can.

“You’re damn right you fucked up, Dean, but you and I both already know it. So please, stop dwelling on it. You need to accept it and move past it or else whatever relationship we have here, platonic or otherwise, will never work. Okay?” Dean has stilled at his words, gaze still locked on his.

“…Otherwise?” he responds, a few moments later.

“Dammit, Dean, is that really all you got out of that!? That’s not what’s important right now; we need to figure out how to be friends. So _please,_ find it in yourself to forgive you. You don’t need it from me.”

“You’re right,” Dean replies very seriously. “You’re exactly right. Okay. You know what? I’ll be right back.” And before Cas even knows what’s happening, Dean is up and out of his seat and walking towards the door. No, not just towards the door, right _out_ the door.

Cas is dumbstruck for a few moments, not knowing what has just happened or how to proceed, but just as he’s about to leave put down, Dean walks back in through the doors and into the diner. He strides over to the booth he was previously seated at with Cas, and sticks his hand out in invitation.

“Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, and I’d like to be platonic friends with you, if you wouldn’t mind.” There’s a smile on his face now, but he’s clearly nervous and unsure of what he’s doing.

Quickly and quietly, Cas stands up and looks Dean up and down. His hand is still outstretched towards him, and his eyes are basically pleading for Cas to do something.

So, Cas grasps the hand in front of him and says, “Castiel Novak. Please to meet you, Dean Winchester.”

With that, they’re both left smiling. They stand there for a few moments more before they decide they should probably pay their bill and leave.

“I had a good time, Dean,” Castiel begins, once they’ve left the diner and are standing outside. He can see Dean’s precious baby parked to the left, further away than any other car and it puts a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I did too, Cas. Maybe we can hang out again soon?” He asks, hopeful tone evident in his voice.

Castiel waits a moment, “hmm”ing before nodding and smiling at Dean.

“I think that can be arranged, yes.”

They part ways, then, Dean sauntering towards his car and Cas in the opposite direction, towards his apartment. As Cas is walking though, he hears Dean call, “See you around, Cas!”

Cas turns back and smiles at him. “Right back at you.”

It’s not until Cas is back home, warm in his living room that he realizes there’s a fat chance of him getting any sort of closure from Dean, because it’s hard to get closure when you’re still in love with someone.

▫

It’s like a song you haven’t heard in years, one you used to _love._ It’s an electric feeling, just hearing it, but as it plays you realize you’ve forgotten it; the words are just on the tip of your tongue, but they’re jumbled and slip your mind while the notes are just the slightest bit off key. It’s like listening to a harmony and a melody clashing. But slowly, the more you listen to it, constantly and on repeat like you used to years ago, the more you remember and the easier it is.

It feels and sounds like it did years ago. It’s almost the same, _almost,_ so close to being how it was before, but it’s new, too, and you love it just as much as you did before, maybe even more, but it’s different yet the same and sort of perfect. And while you’re sad that you had forgotten it for so long, you’re unbelievably and undeniably happy that you know it now, that you know it again, and it’s the greatest feeling you’ve ever experienced and you don’t how you could have possibly lived without it for as long as you did.

Castiel Novak is that song for Dean Winchester.

Following his…date, meal, _whatever_ it was he and Cas had, he realized how totally and completely _fucked_ he was.

Of course he knew he stilled loved Cas. He always had, and he always will. No amount of girls he dated, or the few guys he threw in there over the past four years could change that. He and Cas were supposed to be together, he was sure of it. He just wasn’t sure if there was a way for it to happen, and even if there was a way, if it _would_ happen.

After their initial meal together at the diner, the two of them would hang out more. Cas would come into the shop and would actually _talk_ to Dean, and smile and act like a normal human being rather than be distant and passive towards him.

They went out to eat a few more times, they went to see a few movies, and they just generally hung out and enjoyed each other’s company. The thought of it alone made Dean smile. He wanted things to be like they used to be, he wanted them to be _happy_ like they used to be; what was wrong with that? He didn’t know if it would ever happen again, but a guy could hope.

Not to mention, the more he and Cas would be together, the happier _Cas_ looked. That same old twinkle and brightness had come back to his eyes, he was smiling more. He looked like a genuinely happy and fun person to be around, and for Dean, he was. He was the only person he wanted to be around.

And Dean decided even if he couldn’t win Castiel back, at least he had this.

▫

As platonic as their relationship might have been intended to be, they both knew there was much more to their relationship and way too much in their past for that to happen. Yes, they had said they would start over in the diner, but that didn’t actually erase any of the history they had together.

So every time Cas thought Dean was leaning in too close, or Dean’s hand rested on his shoulder a shade too long, he would do his best to shrink out of it, to turn away from Dean just enough to keep the distance. It killed him to do it, and every time he did, and he could see the hurt in Dean’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it.

He knew how he felt about Dean, and he knew how Dean felt about him. That didn’t change what had happened in the past, and until he saw some sort of real differences in Dean, nothing was going to happen.

Until it did.

They had been sitting in Dean’s living room watching Star Wars on his TV, something they had done hundreds of times when they were teenagers. They both tried to keep the tension low, but no matter how hard Cas tried, he could help but think about the last time they had watched these movies together.

_Dean’s family had been gone for the weekend, so they decided Dean’s house was the best place for them to be._

_They set up in the front room, popcorn and pizza ready for their movie marathon. They sat beside each other, much closer than any teenage boys would generally sit, but of course neither of them minded._

_Once they had finished eating and were left just sitting watching the movie on the couch, Dean’s arm came to rest across the back of the couch, his hand brushing against Cas’ shoulder. Cas moved closer into him, leaning further and Dean’s arm came to encircle him more._

_Every so often, Dean would tilt his head down to recite lines along with the characters in Cas’ ear. It had been making him laugh for a while, because it was endearing how much of a nerd Dean actually was. He was enjoying it, that is, until he got to the one line he hadn’t expected him to say._

_“’I love you,’” Dean quoted, his mouth at Cas’ ear. Cas tilted his head up towards him, eyes wide and mouth agape. It was a few seconds late, but it didn’t keep him from replying with, “’I know.’”_

_It was the first time Dean had said it, and maybe he had planned it like this and_ maybe _it should worry Cas that Dean couldn’t say it without having to quote a movie, but that didn’t stop him from surging forward and kissing Dean until they were both out of breath._

_He climbed into Dean’s lap easily, moving onto him and kissing down his cheeks and neck before he pulled off his own and Dean’s shirts._

_“Christ, Cas,” Dean groaned, only pushing Castiel more and he would never forget the look on Dean’s face when he finally kissed his way down his chest and fell to his knees, unzipping Dean’s jeans and pulling them down his legs._

That was all Castiel would let himself remember.

That was one of his favorite memories, no matter how painful it had become after everything that happened between them.

They had just started the Empire Strikes Back, and to be honest, Cas was kind of dreading watching this one. He didn’t want to have to think of the memories that went along with it, no matter how treasured they were. He didn’t think he could handle them right now.

Cas’ discomfort aside, Dean was the same as always. He said the lines along with the movie, though now they were said from the other side of the couch and much quieter, rather than whispered into Cas’ ear making him laugh. He still smiled whenever he could faintly hear Dean’s voice along with the other characters and couldn’t help but sneak a glance over to him.

To his surprise, Dean’s eyes weren’t on the screen anymore. They were plastered to the side of Cas’ face, and now they were looking at each other head on.

Cas knew what was going to happen before it did.

He didn’t need to be looking at the television to know what part they were at and he didn’t have to ask Dean why he was staring. He could tell from the music that they had finally gotten to the kiss between Han and Leia, but he couldn’t bring himself to move his eyes from Dean’s.

His heart was pounding in his ears and he _knew_ what was coming before it even happened.

Right on cue, just like four years ago, Dean seamlessly spoke along with Han.

“’ _I love you,’”_ he says, voice almost breaking.

Cas can feel tears brimming in his eyes and he blinks hard, once.

He should have asked to watch something else.

He should have _known_ this wouldn’t turn out well, that it was never going to.

A third time.

He should stand up, say goodbye to Dean, and leave.

But that’s not what he does.

Instead he’s nodding along with Dean’s words, and before he can think to stop himself, he’s responding with “’ _I know,’”_  and closing the distance between them on the couch.

When their lips meet, its hot and heavy and the only sounds now are the movie playing in the background, the sound of them kissing, and Cas breathing, ‘I know’ against Dean’s lips, again and again.

“Cas,” Dean groans. “God, Cas, I fucking missed you.”

Dean’s hands are twined in his hair, pulling and messing it up and Cas’ hands are scrambling for purchase against Dean, sliding down his back and pulling him closer to him.

“I know, Dean, I know. Me too, missed you so much,” Cas mumbles against his mouth.

They’ve missed out on too much for anymore talking, too much time was wasted while they were apart and Cas _refuses_ to waste anymore. Not now, not when he has Dean’s lips against his and there are small breathy noises falling from their lips as they kiss and touch and move and _remember_ each other.

Like before, they’re grabbing at each other and it’s only a few moments before they’ve lost their shirts, and somehow Dean has lifted Cas up and they’re moving, to a bedroom, Cas thinks.

When they get there, Dean lays Cas across the bed and climbs on top of him, leaning down to press kisses across Cas’ chest. The move together, in tandem, and before Cas has a chance to comprehend what’s happening they’ve lost their pants, and then their boxers, and then they’re together again, skin to skin, and Cas can’t help the moan the slips past his lips at the feel.

“I know, baby, don’t worry,” Dean whispers against his ear, kissing and biting there. “I’ve got you.”

And he does, because then he feels calloused hands slipping down his body and he’s arching up into the air, trying to get some relief and he could _cry_ because Dean’s hand is on him and they’re together and they’re _here_ and everything is perfect.

It doesn’t take long for the two of them to peak, Dean whispering encouraging words in Cas’ ear and then _finally,_ he lets out a long moan that sounds suspiciously like _“Dean!”_ and he’s coming between them.

That’s all it takes, Dean isn’t far behind him and then he’s collapsing on top of Cas, both of them trying to catch their breath.

After a few moments, Dean rolls off of Cas and lies beside him, simply looking at him and smiling. Cas is doing the same, and eventually Dean is pulling him closer to him, neither of them bothering to clean up.

Cas missed this.

He missed Dean.

It’s not much later that Cas is on the edge of sleep, when he hears Dean murmur, “Cas...” words drifting off like he has more to say, but there’s no way Cas is coherent enough for it now.

“Just go to sleep, Dean,” he grumbles, snuggling back more.

He assumes Dean takes his advice because after a moment he hears a sigh, and feels a weight placed more heavily against him.

He falls asleep smiling.

▫

When Castiel wakes he knows it must be morning from the sunshine coursing through the windows and in between the blinds, but it feels like only a few minutes ago he fell asleep. He still feels rested, though, so when he remembers where he is, he smiles. There’s no one in bed next to him though, so he eventually pulls himself up and out of bed, into some boxers, and into the kitchen where he hears someone moving around.

“Good morning,” Cas says to Dean, coming up behind him to kiss the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how it would be now, after everything, but it’s so easy falling back into this with him.

“Mornin’,” Dean replies, flipping pancakes on the griddle. He serves them up onto a plate for himself before making some toast and coffee for Cas.

“How’d you sleep?” Dean asks as he hands Cas his food. Cas smiles gratefully in response and takes a sip of his coffee before replying.

“I slept well, thanks. Where’s Sam, by the way?” Cas knew he hadn’t been here last night, but he wasn’t sure where he was now.

“He spent the night at Jessica’s, so god only knows what those crazy kids are up to,” Dean replies with a smirk. Cas laughs along with him and they eat their food in comfortable silence.

Eventually, as Dean goes to clean up, Cas finally broaches a subject he’s been wondering about since last night.

“So, I just… I have to ask. What are we now? We were just supposed to be friends, but last I checked, ‘just friends’ don’t do that,” Castiel trailed off, looking to Dean for an answer.

Dean replied with a shrug.

“Whatever you want, Cas. I said it last night, alright? I love you, and I still want to be with you. I did back then, too.”

“Then why did you leave?” Cas asks abruptly. He hadn’t been planning on saying that but now it’s out, so he might as well go with it.

Dean stops washing dishes and looks over to him.

“I just... I was scared, Cas. All that talk of being adults and growing up? I was scared. I know we could have done it together but, come on, man, we were teenagers living in _Kansas._ You and I both know that that would not have turned out well between us. So, I ran. I didn’t know what else to do, and it was the first thing I thought of.”

“You were scared.” Cas said flatly. It’s not as though he hadn’t thought of this already, he just didn’t know what to believe. “You left me, without a _word,_ because you were scared?”

“I know how shitty it was of me, Cas, you gotta believe me.”

“You say that a lot, Dean, that I _‘gotta believe you.’_ I don’t have to believe anything, because this is something I genuinely cannot believe. I thought you loved me?”

“I did!” Dean is quick to defend. “I do love you, Cas, I always have. But I was eighteen and living in Lawrence, Kansas, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Dean, maybe talk to me like a normal human being? Did that thought not cross your mind at all?” Cas was growing steadily angrier, unbelieving of what the man in front of him was saying. He had hoped that with how Dean left, with what happened, he at least had a decent reason for why he did what he did. Apparently, he did not.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Castiel cut him off before he could say anything.

“No, Dean. Just don’t even try. I can’t fucking _believe you!_ I was in love with you, dammit, and all you did was leave me a damn note laying on my pillow saying that you were ‘ _sorry’_ but that you _‘had to do this’_ and that you ‘ _hope I can be happy.’_ I was anything _but_ happy, Dean! None of that was helpful, to you _or_ me!”

He didn’t think he’d ever get the chance to say this, he didn’t think he would even ever go through with it should he have the opportunity; suddenly, though, it’s fierce and it’s _there_ and he can feel it burning right under his skin and before he realizes what he’s said, it’s out.

“I hated you.

“I _hated_ you, Dean. You _broke_ me, and I don’t give a shit how pathetic that makes me seem. You were everything to me, and you broke me, and there’s nothing that can be done about that. I thought maybe this could be fixed, but it can’t. Not with your awful, bullshit excuse for what you did. Not now,” Cas shakes his head, tears forming in the corners of his eyes that he refuses to let fall. “Not after everything.

“There’s only so much I can take,” he mutters, eyes cast downward. “Even from you. Maybe _especially_ from you. So if you don’t mind, I’m just going to collect my things, and go.”

Without a second thought, Cas walks out, leaving a dumbfounded Dean standing in the middle of the kitchen. He’s practically entirely dressed by the time he hears Dean move again, and it’s only to come to the door of the bedroom and look at him.

“Please, Cas,” Dean starts, voice broken and rough, but Cas can’t do this, he _won’t_ do this.

“No, Dean. I’m sorry, but just... forget it.” And with that, he pushes past Dean and in a few steady footsteps, he’s out of the house and back on the street and Dean is left alone, and now he _knows_ what Cas must have felt like.

Dean knows this still pales in comparison to what he did to Cas, because at least Cas was man enough to talk to Dean and tell him how he felt, rather than just running out on him with a bullshit excuse.

▫

_It was the morning after graduation, and when Cas woke up, he stretched himself out with a sigh, moving to grab Dean and cuddle into him more, but when he reached his arm out, there was nothing there._

_At that, he opened his eyes and frowned at the absence of his boyfriend. There was no way Dean was in the bathroom, because he could see the door open and lights off in the corner of his room, and Dean would have left his bedroom door open like always if he had gone downstairs to get breakfast._

_So Dean left, but Cas had no idea why._

_That is, until, he noticed the folded up piece of paper on the pillow next to his, where Dean had been laying the night before._

_On the front in Dean’s messy scrawl was ‘_ Cas’ _so he quickly unfolded it and read the words inside._

Cas,

I’m sorry.

I have to do this, okay? You deserve someone better than me, better than this.

You’ll probably hate me now, and I don’t blame you.

Just please, be happy.

-Dean

 _The sob the rattled its way out of Cas’ chest was loud and wet and_ broken _because this could not be happening right now._

_Dean was leaving him._

_No, Dean_ left _him._

_Cas lay in his bed for hours, clutching the paper to his chest, until eventually Gabriel came in and found him like that._

_He did his best to comfort him, but Cas was a lost cause._

_He was broken now, and that was that._

▫

Cas hated himself for leaving Dean how he did, especially after the night they had together, but there was nothing else he could do. As much as he loved and wanted Dean, he couldn’t bring himself to stay there and be with him, not after he found out why Dean actually left him.

Instead of heading over to his own apartment when he walked out of Dean’s, he got a taxi and drove out to see Gabriel in Wichita. He couldn’t be on his own right now and he wasn’t sure when he would be able to be again. There was too much happening, too many emotions running through him.

When he finally reached Gabriel’s house, his brother swung the door open with a smile on his face.

“Cassie! What brings you to my humble abode?” He began, his normal cheery self until he really saw Castiel’s face.

Instead of asking him what happened and having Cas explain, he pulled him inside, made him a cup of tea and sat down on the couch with him.

Gabriel was first to break the silence.

“I’m going to fucking kill him now, you get that, right?”

Finally, Cas couldn’t help it, he could _not_ do anything anymore, he couldn’t keep himself in check and he certainly couldn’t stop himself from sobbing on his brother’s couch, curling up into him like he had the first time this happened.

“It’s okay, Cas, you’re fine,” Gabe soothed, running his hand down Cas’ back comfortingly.

“I am _not_ fine,” Cas chokes out. “I haven’t been fine since he left me the first time, and this wasn’t supposed to fucking _happen!_ He wasn’t supposed to come back into my life and fuck everything up, again. I haven’t been fine for four years, and I am not going to be fine now.”

Cas’ breathing was labored, a mix of his rant and sobs making it harder to get a breath in. He continued to lay there with Gabe, who said nothing more.

They sat there together for what seemed like hours, maybe days, but was only about an hour or so. Once Castiel’s sobs subsided enough that he could breathe normally again, Gabriel let him go in favor of walking back into the kitchen. Castiel stayed where he was, staring absently at the wall in front of him.

When Gabe came back, another steaming cup of tea in his hands, he simply set it on the table in front of Cas and sat back down next to him.

“I’m sure you don’t want to talk right now,” Gabriel began, “But I need you to know that I’m here for you when you do want to talk. And if you want, I can kill him. I will have no qualms about that.”

Surprisingly, this pulled a slight laugh out of Castiel against all odds, and he moved his gaze from the spot on the wall in front of him over to his brother.

Castiel found himself smiling in spite of himself and Gabe gave him a small smile in return.

Things were not okay, very far from it, and Castiel was not sure if he’d be able to pull out of this one, but being there with his family, with someone he loved and who loved him, someone who never left him and was there for him at all times?

It helped. And it gave him hope.

▫

Dean was drunk.

That was his permanent state ever since Cas had walked out on him. He didn’t even bother trying to call him or find him to talk to him. He stopped showing up to his shifts at the coffee house, and that was that. So he stayed home, and he stayed drunk.

The only person he ever saw was Sam, and he did his best to avoid him. He would try to act normal, would try to be himself so he wouldn’t worry, but he knew from the lines in Sam’s face that he wasn’t doing as well of a job of acting as he thought or hoped he was.

Sam, though, didn’t say anything. He let Dean continue and left him to his own devices mostly, as he was often out with his _girlfriend._

Dean sneered at the thought, instantly put out and stumbled into the kitchen to grab the next bottle of liquor he could down to try and feel better.

That’s what he had been telling himself; this would make him feel better.

But it was days of almost nonstop drinking now, and if nothing else, he felt shittier than he did when he began.

As he’s looking for a new bottle though, the doorbell rings and he groans at the idea of having to leave his pursuit of alcohol in order to open it.

He does, though, and what he finds isn’t what he’s expecting.

“ _Gabriel Novak?”_

The man before him may be shorter than him, but if the look he was giving him right now wasn’t enough to make a lesser man piss themselves, he didn’t know what was.

“You son of a bitch,” Gabe growled out, pushing Dean backwards and walking into the house. Dean stumbled, not able to catch himself and fell on his ass. “This is what you’ve been doing? You’re sitting around getting piss drunk, when you’re the one who fucked this up in the first place?”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?” Dean yells back, words slurred and slow. “He said ‘e hates me. He doe’n’t want me anymore, he doe’n’t want to see me, and that’s _fuckin’ fine,_ ‘cus I don’ care a’ymore.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a sad fuck. Are you kidding me? You honestly think he hates you? Of fucking course he said that! You broke his god damn heart! _Again!”_ Gabriel roared. Dean flinched, still on the ground with Gabe, who usually seemed so small, towering over him. “You’re going to fix this, you hear me? You get your drunk ass up, sober the hell up and _fix this._ Frankly, Cas deserves way better than the likes of you, but you’re what makes him happy. So quit wallowing in self-pity, suck it up, and get it the fuck over with!”

Dean felt like he’d been slapped across the face. Gabriel moved closer, and for a moment Dean thought Gabe was going to kick him, but he just strides past him and into the kitchen. Dean has no motivation to move from his spot on the floor so he doesn’t see the man again until he’s walking past again and out the door, only this time he’s carrying all of Dean’s bottles of alcohol.

“Hey!” Dean starts, ready to argue. He tries to stand up to get his liquor back, but he’s not steady on his feet and is swaying again before he realizes it.

“I’m taking these with me,” Gabriel says, voice hard. “I’m serious, Dean. Fix my brother. You’re the fucker that broke him in the first place, and usually I would say he isn’t even _broken,_ but you really did a doozy this time. So get over yourself and clean up your damn mess.”

With that, he walks out of the apartment, bottles in hand, and slams the door shut. The noise makes Dean’s head pound and he thinks maybe Gabriel is right, though right now he’s not entirely sure what about.

Since he no longer has any alcohol to keep him drunk on a 24/7 basis, he figures trying to sober up might be in his best interest.

He manages to stagger over to the bathroom and strip out of his clothes before stepping into the shower. He turns the water on as cold as it can go, and while it stings and startles him; at least he’s up now.

Once he’s out of the shower, he makes himself a cup of coffee and has an actual opportunity to think of what Gabriel said.

If Gabe actually came over here out of free will, Cas must be bad. His stomach drops at the thought of having hurt Cas. _Again._ He never wanted to do it in the first place, but somehow he’d managed to screw up the best relationship he’d ever had twice and he had no fucking idea how to fix it.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he says to himself with his head on his kitchen table, and just as he’s debating simply going out and buying _more_ alcohol, the front door slams open and Sam is stomping inside. Sam reels at the sight of Sam.

“Alright, Dean, that’s it. I know this has to do with Cas, but I need you to tell me what in the hell happened because I can’t stand to watch you pretend not to be drunk for one more minute,” Sam is using his stern voice and while Dean has mostly sobered up, his head is still pounding and he covers his ears.

“Jesus, Sam, lay off. I’m not drunk. Gabe came in here and stole all our damn alcohol so I took a shower and drank some coffee. I’m fine, so just leave me alone.”

“Wait, _Gabe_ was here? Jesus, Dean how bad did you fuck up this time?”

“Pretty bad, I’d say,” Dean grumbled nonchalantly.

“Well, what did you _do?”_

So Dean explains. From the night with Star Wars from when they were teenagers, to a few nights ago when Cas walked out on him. When he’s done he lets out a long breath.

“Alright, that’s all.”

Dean looks up to Sam, expecting some sort of answer, but all he gets instead is a slack-jawed and wide-eyed Sam.

“What?” Dean says defensively. He knows he messed up, but Sam should at least be on his side.

“Are you kidding me? You left him a _note?_ I thought you at least actually talked to him and broke up with him! What in the hell is wrong with you, Dean!?”

“I don’t know!” Dean yelled back. “I was scared, okay! We live in Kansas, man, you know how people talk! I was scared alright!”

“You broke Cas’ heart because of your own damn internalized _homophobia?”_ Sam said, disbelieving.

“I’m not homophobic! I just didn’t know what people would say about us and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. I was scared, that’s all,” Dean’s voice ended quiet and broken.

“Dean, you need to leave, right now, and fix this. You need to call mom and dad, you need to tell them how you feel, and you need to help Cas. God, I can’t believe you were this dumb.”

Dean wants to fight him, wants to defend himself, but he knows that Sam is right. So he just nods to him, stands up and grabs his jacket, keys, and phone, and leaves.

He’s sitting in the Impala, unsure of what he’s going to do, but suddenly he decides _fuck it_ and pulls up the phone number to his parents’ house on his phone.

It only rings two times before he hears his mother’s cheery voice on the other end, and despite everything going on and everything he’s feeling, it makes him smile to hear her.

“Hi, sweetie!” Mary says cheerfully. He can hear her smile through the phone.

“Mom, I’m in love with Cas. I have been since high school but I screwed it all up then, and I screwed it all up now and I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I just needed you to know, okay?”

The phone is line is silent, and for a second Dean isn’t sure Mary even heard him, but then he hears her take a breath.

“I know you love him, honey,” she says slowly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve known it _since_ then. You two were practically attached at the hip, and do you think I really wasn’t going to notice the way you looked at him? Or the way he looked at you?”

Dean is dumbfounded.

Of all the responses he expected this wasn’t even one of them.

“You _knew?”_ Dean asks, incredulous. “Wait, what about dad? I thought he just wanted me to end up with a nice girl, there’s no way he knows.” Mary sighed on the other line.

“I admit your father has his…hang ups, but there was really no avoiding it, Dean. You two were pretty obvious in high school; he’s not going to be shocked to hear this.”

“So you’re telling me,” Dean starts, “That dad _knows_ I love Cas, who is a _man,_ and he doesn’t care?”

“Mhmm,” Mary hums. “Like I said, he has his hang ups, but he loves you and so do I. We just want you to be happy, sweetie, and you know we love Cas. We always have. Or we always did, at least, until you two stopped talking.”

“Yeah, that was kinda how I screwed up,” Dean cringes. “I left him a note one morning telling him I had to leave, and that’s when I left for Topeka.”

“Dean Michael Winchester!” his mother scolds. “You left him a _note_ telling him you were leaving? You know I love you, but you do realize how much of a dumbass you were being, right?”

He’s tempted to laugh at his mom’s language, because she always scolds him for cursing but he doesn’t have it in him.

“I know, mom, I know. I didn’t do too well on that one. But we were better now! And then I screwed up again and I don’t know what to do,” Dean finishes, helpless.

Mary sighs again, but now Dean assumes it’s out of sadness for her son.

“Baby, you just have to tell him how you feel. Apologize. Just try your best, okay? If you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Dean nods to himself and then lets out a breath.

“You’re right. Thanks mom, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mary replies, smile in her voice.

“I’ll call you later,” Dean throws in quickly and waits for her response before hanging up.

He sits in the car for a few minutes more before he finally decides to suck it up, and turns the engine over.

It’s now or never, he imagines.

▫

Castiel had mentioned to him in passing of where Gabe lived in Wichita, and he vaguely remembered a street name.

He drove out there, and once he was on the right street, he looked for the old beat up car he knew Gabe still had from four years ago.

He saw it, parked in a driveway, and his speeding picked up because this _had_ to be it. Cas was right inside this house and he had no idea how he was going to fix any of this, or if he even could.

Dean pulled his car up in front of the house, turned off the engine, and waited for a few minutes more. He finally decided fuck it and steps out of the car and up to the door. When he knocks, it’s Gabe who answers, and while he’s still glaring at him like before, he lets him inside.

“He’s upstairs. First door on the left,” he says blandly and then leaves Dean to make his way up.

He feels like a teenager again, getting permission from Cas’ parents to go talk to him in his room before they were close friends.

He steps up to the closed door and knocks.

From the inside he hears shuffling and Cas saying, “Go away, Gabriel.”

He knocks again, and then a third time for good measure, and finally he hears a frustrated groan from behind the door and Cas is whipping it open, saying, “Gabe, I swear to god, I just want-“

Cas stops short and freezes in the doorway of the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cas asks coldly. Dean is just surprised Cas didn’t slam the door in his face.

“I came to apologize,” Dean starts. “Again.

“Look, I screwed up, bad. I know I did. I was just afraid of what people would say. We were eighteen at the time, Cas, and I didn’t know what I was doing. No one knew about us except for Sam and Gabe and I didn’t want to deal with them or hear how they would talk about us if we went public. So I just ran, so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I know it wasn’t right, and I’m sorry for it.”

Cas’ glare has hardened now, but he’s still standing there, so Dean takes that for a plus.

“That doesn’t make up for what happened, Dean. How am I supposed to know you won’t have some ridiculous gay-panic again and walk out on me?”

“That’s not going to happen, Cas,” Dean says softly. “I called my mom earlier, and the first thing I told her was that I love you. D’you wanna know what she said?”

Cas didn’t respond, but he did cross his arms over his chest, so Dean took that as a sign to continue.

“She said, ‘I know.’ God, Cas, she knew, she and my dad both knew how I felt about you and I’m _glad_ they know. I want to be able to take you out and show you off, to kiss you whenever I want. Because I love you, and I need you. And I’m sorry.”

Cas’ glare lessened, thankfully, but he was still closed off from Dean.

“Saying a few words is going to make this better. I love you, more than I should, but I don’t know if I can do this.”

Dean decided to take a chance. He reached out towards Cas and pulled his arm away from his chest. He held Cas’ hand in his own and stepped closer. Cas hadn’t stopped him yet so he continued. His other hand slid up the cup his face, tilting his head up towards his own so that they were staring into each other’s eyes.

“Cas, I mean this with all of my heart. I _love you._ More than anything else, more than anyone has loved anything in the world. Just breathing reminds me I’ve lost you and I can’t live like that.

“If you don’t want this, and you want me to leave, I will, but I couldn’t let you go without trying.”

Castiel doesn’t answer him.

He’s about to let go and walk away, down and dejected, but when he pulls away, Cas pulls back and he ends up right back where he was.

“Dean…” he starts, voice and eyes soft.

“I love you,” Dean says again.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, as if it’s the first time he’s said it, and all he gets in response is,

“I know.”

It’s all he needs.

In a moment their lips are together and Dean is pretty sure his cheeks feel wet but he refuses to admit it because he’s just so damn _happy_ right now.

He knows there’s way more the two of them need to get through, much more that needs to be spoken about, but for right now he’s content to just stand here and kiss the man he loves.

EPILOGUE

It’s a year later.

A whole damn _year._

Everything between them was rough for some time, but it got better, and it got easier, and they’re happy.

Dear god, are they happy.

Dean is sitting in the fanciest restaurant he’s ever been in and as uncomfortable as the thought of it alone makes him, it’s lessened because Cas is right there with him, smile on his face and ring shining on his hand. He’s content to just sit there, with the man he loves, the man he is now _engaged_ to, but he knows eventually they’re gonna have to leave and get back to home and work.

For now though, they’re both happy where they are.

“I love you,” Cas says, voice laced with love and affection.

And no one can blame Dean if he chokes a little when he replies,

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you guys so much for reading this, and the utmost thanks to everyone who had a part in this actually being a thing when I almost dropped out, more than once.
> 
> So, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
